


Y'AIN'T SHIT, WITCH

by subtropicalStenella



Series: 5 for 500 [14]
Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Do it for the vine, Fist Fights, Gen, Look me in the face and tell me clones wouldn't, Space Snapchat, Space YouTube, Spot the meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-03
Updated: 2017-12-03
Packaged: 2019-02-10 06:07:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12905754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/subtropicalStenella/pseuds/subtropicalStenella
Summary: 5/500 PromptThe Clone Wars: Asajj/Wolffe/Kit Fisto, the fight which costs the Commander his eye. An Explicit Trash Talking No Holds Barred Brawl.NOW WITH ART!!http://brighteyedbadwolf.tumblr.com/post/171063898327/countessofbiscuit-ya-aint-shit-witch-the





	Y'AIN'T SHIT, WITCH

**Author's Note:**

  * For [countessofbiscuit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/countessofbiscuit/gifts).



Six weeks ago, the image of a trooper’s hand holding up a bisected CC helmet had taken over the clone intranet and escaped onto the civilian holonet. While the damage was impressive, the helmet itself wasn't the focus of the shot.

Behind the helmet had been a bacta tank with a conscious clone floating inside, with half his face stitched and stapled back together. His feral, burning glare is only intensified by the fact that it's now focused through the one remaining eye above the respirator. He's flipping a double bird at the cam, both fists pressed to the glassteel above the caption

 

**Y’AIN’T SHIT, WITCH.**

 

Two days ago, someone had recovered the actual holocam footage of the incident, gotten a techie to patch together and distribute the data to the main intranet. It looked like it was going to beat out the clip compilation of CC Gree casually tossing grenades backwards over his shoulder into completely improbable targets (open tank hatches, transport doors, tiny windows, the hands of an SBD once) within the hour, and had already passed the infamous _Simultaneous Disappointed Jedi Facepalm 3x Generational Combo_ of Grand Master-General Windu, his ex-Padawan Master-General Billaba,  _ and  _ her new Padawan from that one Senate meeting.

Of course, getting people together and organized to actually watch the damn thing on a screen bigger than a datapad was worse than herding cats and took way too many favors to wrangle the conference room for a “mission briefing” so if y’all brotherfuckers would  _ shut the hell up  _ we can start the damn holovid. 

 

Thank you.

 

Alright, first thing, special thanks to 104th Sergeant Nexus for falling with the perfect vantage point and good sense to leave his helmet cam on, providing us with this most excellent footage. We'll tell you all about it when we cross over, brother.

_ Vod'e An! _

 

\--

It doesn't look like much to start, someplace overcast-gray and rocky and barren near a cliffside. The heavy layer of fog and smoke is a nice cinematic touch, nicely done Mom Nature.

And then Master-General Kit Fisto goes flying backwards across the screen, right-to-left, slamming into the cliffside with a disconcertingly thick, wet  _ crunch.  _ He lies stunned at the foot of the cliff for a moment, until he is pulled abruptly upright and forward by an invisible grip on his neck. His feet dangle in the air, kicking weakly, as Asajj Ventress comes into view.

Whoever edited the clip clearly had a crush, because the camera appears to do a luxuriously slow zoom-and-pan up from the ground, following the long, sleek length of the female Zabrak’s silvery pale legs as they peek out between the folds of her robes as she walks, the slender curves of her hips and lean stomach and whipcord-strong arms. Asajj Ventress moves like a nexu on the prowl, both sabers drawn, one at her side, the other in her upraised hand that so easily holds the Jedi Master in thrall, and she smiles like a lothcat with its teeth full of feathers.

\--

 

A piercingly loud whistle from the back of the room, and another voice yells, “Hell yeah, come to buir, baby!”

 

The catcallers are met with derisive groans and gagging noises.

 

“Look me in the fuckin face and tell me you wouldn't hit that,” the whistler yells defensively.

“Yeah, with a  _ speeder, _ ” someone snaps back, and another adds,

“Brother you stick your dick in that kinda crazy,  _ you ain't getting it back. _ ”

“Worth it.”

“No joke man, you get  _ stuck!” _

“What, like, whatsits, Twi’lek girls, right? If you do 'em good?”

“Nah Twi’s just get tight as hell for a bit, Zabs got like, knots and  _ teeth _ or some shit down there an--”

_ “And some of us want to watch the fuckdamn holo so shut your face, shitass!” _

 

\--

 

Ventress rolls her lowered saber over her wrist, her long, slender fingers caressing the curved hilt. 

 

_ Say goodnight, _ she purrs quietly.

 

She pulls General Fisto in close, and--

 

_ Goodnight,  _ a familiarly accented voice snarls.

 

The heavy butt of a DC rifle smashes into Ventress’ face in an artistically slowed fan of tarry-black blood, to a chorus of triumphant cheering and howls.

She drops General Fisto in shock, but recovers enough to whip her lowered saber across in a vicious, circular backhand that looks like it takes the tip off one the General’s trailing tentacles in the half second before it rips across the elaborate, dark maroon paint job of the clone's faceplate.

Both the clone and the Jedi go flying, General Fisto smacking into the cliffside again. 

 

Ventress pauses, stunned and panting, and makes a grabbing gesture that lifts General Fisto up again, throwing him back into the wall a third time.

 

She resets her nose with an audible (probably enhanced)  _ crack _ that doesn't do much for her shattered cheekbone, and licks that thick black blood off her teeth, though she lets it continue to pour down her chin and neck. 

 

_ Well. Aren't  _ you  _ a bold little beastie,  _ she says.

 

A taunting sing-song as the clone, Wolffe, sits up dizzily and rips off his sundered helmet. Half his face is coated in the same red that had decorated his armor, the flesh little more than charred meat.

 

_ Oh  _ dear _ , I’ve gone and ruined your pretty face, haven't I?  _ she simpers, stalking closer.

_ Sorry I can't say the same,  _ Wolffe snarls

 

and his hand comes up from his hip, rapid-firing his sidearm.

 

\--

 

The sounds of the weapon firing and Ventress knocking the bolts aside with her sabers is lost in the incredulous, howling riot that was once a conference room full of soldiers.

The scene is rewound and replayed three more times before anyone can calm down enough to watch the rest. Two people swoon. A few more whip out datapads with battalion transfer forms or audio mixing software to add background music with an undoubtedly thunderous bass drop to the line.

 

\--

 

The cover fire is enough to let Wolffe get back to his feet, but not much more than that. Sidearms are small caliber, and blow through their chargepacks in a hurry.

 

Still work pretty damn good when you chuck the spent, empty gun at your opponent’s head. 

 

She slaps it aside, but the distraction gives the recovered General Fisto time to come down in a huge leaping overhand strike Ventress barely catches and--

 

\--throws him offscreen again, Wolffe scrambling up to his feet and pulling his vibroblade as he goes and--

\--and they  _ all  _ end up out of frame?!

 

What the  _ shit,  _ Wolffe brings a vibroblade to a saber fight and we don't even get to  _ see it _ ? What kind of sleenshit is  _ that? _

Someone restart the clip from the beginning, dammit. 


End file.
